Happy
by Miss92
Summary: Lily is smiling, laughing even. Snape can't believe she is happy, but she might just be.


_**Author's Note:  
**_This is my first James and Lily romance story to be posted on this site. I hope you will like it. Please leave a review and let me know what you think.

_Happy_

The sounds reflected by the walls of the Great Hall buzzed into his ear and made his head ache. He always wondered how people were able to talk without any stops. He supposed people just liked hearing their own voices. He supposed everyone was just selfish, even though none of them – not even himself – would ever admit that by saying it out loud.

"The slimy prat," he heard a clear and high voice say next to him. He looked to his side to find a girl with black curling hair and a pale skin. She could be referred to as scarily beautiful, but to him she was just a girl.

"Who is?" he asked quietly, not really thinking that she would listen to him anyway.

But this time she did. "Well, Potter, obviously," she said and showed her teeth while grinning from ear to ear. "You must hate him," she said loudly for everyone to hear, "he took your precious little _mudblood_…"

He felt his heart sink, but he decided to ignore it. Just like he ignored the fury rising in him as she called her a mudblood. He was just a hypocrite as he had – in a moment of absolute and for him rare stupidity – called her one as well.

"I hate him," he said, trying to sound calm. "But I don't envy him for talking to _her_."

He hoped he had done a good job on feigning the resentment when he mentioned 'her'. If not he might be in for trouble that he didn't want to be in. But as he saw Bellatrix Lestrange, the scary beauty, smile a satisfied smile he knew he had pulled it off and that he was safe. No harm would be done to him that evening.

People were starting to get up, having finished their meal, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her stand up as well. Her auburn hair was something that couldn't be ignored and even if her hair hadn't been so special, he would have known she was leaving with the rest. After all, he watched her closely almost every second he could spare. And those were a lot of seconds.

He stood up as well, trying to make his departure unnoticeable for the others, but one of them looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "I have to add something to my essay on werewolves," he said calmly and grinning widely, "how they are friends with slimy prats." The others laughed loudly – knowing who he was speaking about – and they were easily convinced that he spoke the truth and let him go. He was now free to follow her. To catch one last glimpse of her before he went to bed and would fall into endless dreams about her.

He saw how she ascended one of the stairs, laughing loudly and throwing her head back into her neck in the process. He smiled at the sight of her happiness, but his smile soon faded as he noticed the person walking next to her.

Of course, the prat seemed to be everywhere with her these days and he couldn't stand it. She had always hated him; at least, that was what she had always claimed. But now they were rarely seen without the other and he couldn't understand it. What was it that made the prat so special that she allowed _his_ presence around her while she denied him?

"That's horrible, James," she heard her say. She sounded disapproving of one of his actions and he almost danced euphorically before he noticed the small smile still playing at her lips. Those rose-coloured and soft lips…

"It isn't," the prat said as he carefully wrapped his arm around her, as though he was afraid she would deny him. And for a moment it seemed as though she would, but when the prat's arm finally touched her shoulders she smiled contentedly. "I never do horrible things," the prat said, sounding cocky, "I leave that to the Slytherins."

He couldn't help himself. His right hand was already wrapped around his wand and he was about to aim a spell at the prat when he lost his concentration as the girl, his girl, leaned into the prat some more. Her head was now resting onto the prat's shoulder.

He stopped in the middle of the hall, earning angry glares and annoyed huffs. He, however, did not care. The only thing that was on his mind was the girl with the auburn hair, the girl he had known for years now, the girl he had trusted with his heart… the girl that had betrayed him by waltzing onto said heart with a boy he had hated from the very first day they had met.

He saw how the prat removed his arm from her shoulders and instead took one of her petite and soft hands in his, pulling her into the nearest classroom. His anger turned into fury. She had betrayed him, left him alone, abandoned their friendship and now she did this?

He walked towards the classroom pushing the door open slightly. The first thing he heard was her laugh, it sounded like music into his ears. It was her happy laugh, he knew, he recognised all of her laughs. The forced ones, the sad ones and the neutral ones. He loved them all, but most of all he loved the happy one. The one she had laughed just seconds before.

"You're mad!" she exclaimed. Sounding excited about something and he vaguely remembered the first time she had spoken to him in that tone. It had been after she had asked him if he really thought she was a witch.

"Yes," the prat said. In his opinion the prat still sounded cocky, but even he couldn't deny that he could hear happiness in his voice as well. "About you! But you figured that out years ago!"

She giggled, something she had never really done in his presence. "Because you told me!"

He couldn't think. Somehow he knew that this conversation wasn't what he wanted to hear. He didn't want to think or know that she could be happy without him, but today all the signs and all the proof he needed was handed at him.

She could be happy and he wouldn't know. Simply because she didn't bother to tell him anymore and simple because he didn't bother to fight for her forgiveness a bit harder. It all dawned down on him. She could be happy without him knowing she was and she wasn't happy because of him, no, the last time he had seen her go away from him she hadn't been happy at all.

He had – in his frustration – used the wrong words and how he wished for those words to not have been said by him. But there was no denying he hadn't said them, because he had and they were playing in his mind everyday. As though a recorder had recorded it all and would torture him with it for the rest of his life.

"I might have told you once or twice," the prat said and the girl only chuckled. He could almost see her shaking her head in disbelieve, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Yes," he heard her answer, "once or twice." She paused and even he could feel the air in the room was tensed. "You never said it this year though. Your passing fancy has finally passed."

He could hear the regret in her voice and he wanted to punch the prat for hurting her like he did, but on the other hand that would be a hypocritical thing to do. Hadn't he hurt her most of all only a year and a half ago?

And it was too late to make her remember that they had been friends before the incident. They had been the best of friends, he had loved her and she would have died for him. But now the only thing she remembered was him screaming at her. Telling her he didn't need a _mudblood_ to help him out. But how wrong he had been. He had always needed her.

He had apologised, oh, he had tried. He had soon realised how foolish he had been by taking his anger and frustration out on her. But she hadn't wanted to listen and could he really blame her? No, but he could blame himself for not making her stop walk through the portrait hole to her House's common room. Because that had been his downfall.

"Has it?" the prat asked, sounding amused. He wanted to punch him again, but this time for getting the girl. He could already see it coming. How the prat had ever earned her was beyond him.

"I hope not," she said so softly that he almost hadn't heard. The next moment he heard nothing. He pushed the door open a little further and carefully peeked around it.

The sight made him feel miserable, nauseous and horrified at the same time. The prat's hands were in her auburn hair as one of her hands lay on his chest and the other was massaging the back of his neck. He was scarred for the rest of his life. He stepped back, softly closing the door to give the couple some peace.

She was happy, at least this one of his hopes had come true. She was happy with the wrong person, yes, but there was nothing to be done about that tiny fact. But she was happy and this had been one of his hopes. He had hoped that after he had made her feel miserable she would be able to be happy again. And she was.

She had made him happier than anyone ever had. She had been his sun, his North and his South. She still was, even though she probably hadn't got a clue. She had made him feel the happiest he had been in a while when he was eleven and this, his by her fulfilled happiness, had made him able to go through the toughest of times. He had been devastated when he knew he had lost it a year and a half ago. But now he felt the memories were enough.

If she could be happy, so could he. Just a glimpse of her happy and smiling face would be enough to make his day. It would fulfil him with bliss if she would every direct this happy and smiling face at him, but he knew that he was only fooling himself.

He had lost her to the prat and it was his own entire fault. The prat had been the smart one; never giving up on her and ending up being rewarded for this. It was something he hated to admit, but he had to nonetheless. It was only fair to not only the prat, but also to himself. He had to deal with the fact that he had lost and that the prat had been the most successful in the end. The prat had ended up earning her love. The prat had won.

And he would bow. He would bow deeply if he didn't hate the prat as much as he did. That was why it was hardest to accept the fact that the prat had won. He hated him. He hated everything about him and he mostly hated the prat for being able to make _her_ fall in love with him.

He neared the dungeons, the only place he had felt ever truly at home except for when being with her. She had been his home, but now he would have to satisfy himself with a place in those dark dungeons.

But he would stay with her. Every step she would make would be a step for him to make as well and he promised himself – but mostly he promised her – that this time he would never give up.

"Snapey, Snapey, Snapey," said a voice next to him. He turned his head to see Bellatrix Lestrange smiling up at him. "Are you done with your essay? It will scare those bloody Marauders to death when we let them know what you wrote…"

She giggled, but it didn't sound sweet, like _hers_ had been. "You and your brilliance…" He smiled slightly at her words, feeling flattered. "That _mudblood _of yours, _Lily_, will be very pleased as well…"

And with that she left. Making him feel guilty. Yet again he wouldn't be able to keep his promise. Or maybe he could. He would always love her that was a promise; he would love her till the end of times.


End file.
